


Before

by stormflame89



Series: Famiglia [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5271011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormflame89/pseuds/stormflame89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Gokudera was doing before joining the Famiglia. M/M</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before

Hello first off I do not own anything related to Katekyo Hitman Reborn, no matter how much I wish I did. Now I am writing a full length KHR fiction but I was recently stuck and decided to write a character piece for Gokudera, I hope to write others as I go along which would also be posted here. Now about my writing style, some people might not like it but I do use Japanese and Italian as I feel like it, mostly titles, curse words and catchphrases but sometimes just because I feel like it at. At the bottom is a translation list. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do. Oh side note it is not beta'd sorry.  
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Hayato Gokudera reclined against the giant goose down pillows on a feather top queen bed; the satin sheet draped across his lap the only thing protecting him from the early morning chill. Smoke from his cigarette rose lazily in the sex laced air as he stared listlessly out the unshuttered window. The green-eyed boy took a deep sip of Grappa1 from a lead crystal tumbler before leaning his wrist against an upraised knee. The brandy’s fiery warmth as it settled in his stomach was pleasing and familiar. He was thankful that Emilio had at least had a pocket deep enough for the good stuff; even if he had lacked in so many other areas. Gokudera canted his eyes to the left as he carelessly ashed on the expensive looking Persian rug. Emilio lay motionless on the bed next to him; his Sicilian features were pulled into a mask of pain, poor fool.  
The late mafia man had thought he was clever, getting Gokudera into a position where he couldn’t use his signature weapon. Gokudera sneered and turned his gaze back out the window to stare at the beautifully landscaped garden. Emilio wasn’t the first and probably not the last to think he was helpless without his dynamite. Per l'amor di Dio2, he was a NAMED hitman, the former student of Trident Shamal (top rate doctor, high class assassin and full time pervert) , fratello3 to Poison Scorpion Bianchi (crazy stalker cagna4 that she was) and un fottuto genio in buona fede5, he wasn’t cazzo senza talento6. Gokudera had many weapons at his disposal; a Glock 28 was hidden along with his seemingly endless supply of dynamite, a garrote hide among his many accessories and he was a master of improvisation.  
Signore7 Emilio’s fate had been a micro hypodermic needle pushing air into an artery, cleverly hidden away in one of the silver blonde’s many swinging necklaces. In the morning the bastardo’s8 man would find that he had died of a heart attack after an evening of truly lack-luster sex. The sex had in fact been so uninspiring that Gokudera had been forced to finish himself off – before he’d killed the man, there are just some things you don’t do with a dead body next to you after all. Gokudera took a last hit from his butt before putting it out in the marble ashtray that rested on a cherry wood nightstand.  
The silver-blond slowly finished his drink, savoring each sip, before pushing back the sheet and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed as he sat up. He was just lighting another smoke when his phone rang. Gokudera lazily stood and walked to the end of the bed, where his pants lay, with only the slightest hitch to his step. He stepped into his jeans before pulling them up in a quick motion that had him grimacing at the slight burn in his culo9. The teen left the pants undone as he pulled a slim flip phone from his pocket. He sat down on the bed as he checked the number, because very few people had his number, unknown. The phone continued to ring in his hand. He frowned, his pale eyebrows pulling together as he opened the device. He pulled the cigarette from between his lips as he raised the phone to his ear.  
“Pronto10.” His voice came out liquor soaked and smoke heavy.  
“Caio poco dinamite, sono Reborn11.” A squeaky childish voice rang through the receiver. Gokudera’s frown deepened as he took a quick drag from his burning biri12. Reborn, the Sun Arcobaleno13 and the World’s Greatest Hitman, had only a few reasons to call him, most of which had to do with the health and wellbeing of the limited number of acquaintances they had in common.  
“Signore Reborn, how may I be of service?” He asked as he placed his cigarette between pressed lips. He took a drag and prayed for the safety of Bianchi and Shamal.  
“I want you to come to Giappone14; I have a job for you.” Gokudera breathed a sigh of relief, though he wondered what sort of job the World’s Greatest Hitman would have for him.  
“What would this job entail?” He inquired, his voice slurred around his smoke.  
“I want you to come to the town of Namimori to test the thirteen year old Vongola Decimo15 candidate.” Reborn stated.  
“Giappone is a long way for one job, Signore Reborn.” Gokudera ashed his cig with a careless flick of his wrist.  
“Do this right and membership in the famiglia is almost certain.” The silver-blond froze. It was no secret that his greatest desire was to be a member in such an illustrious famiglia16, in any capacity, and here was the World’s Greatest Hitman practically handing him the option on a silver platter. “A passport and plane ticket will be waiting for you in Venezia17. The Nono has arranged for a weapons dealer to supply you with the ingredients for you dynamite. See you in a few days. Caio Caio18.”  
Gokudera could only stare at his phone in disbelief as the dial tone filled the room. He shook his head in exasperation; it was just like the Arcobaleno to completely disregard his feelings and opinion on the matter well still expecting him to comply with a smile. Of course, the teenager would have done the job anyways, even if the infant hadn’t sweetened the deal with Vongola membership; Reborn had been tolerant of his stalker sister, whom Gokudera loved and hated in equal measure.  
The silver-blond sighed and snapped his phone closed then stuffed it into his pocket. He zipped his pants before he started the search for his missing effects. Once fully dressed and accessorized he put out his cigarette, grabbed the opened bottle of Grappa, it was the good stuff after all, and walked out the door. He stood in the doorway for a moment, gazing at the dead man that lay upon the rumpled bed.  
Gokudera’s brow furrowed in displeasure, Emilio’s death was another stain on his soul, one amongst many, but that didn’t stop him from crossing himself or kissing the crucifix that hung around his neck as he whispered a pray. He didn’t know which of their souls he was asking forgiveness for but it didn’t really matter. The dead man’s soul had been blackened with the blood of men, women and children and Gokudera, well his lifestyle wasn’t exactly saintly. The green eyed boy knew where he was going when he died but his faith kept him strong in the truly dark days. The teen closed the door softly, as if the man inside was just sleeping and walked away.  
~  
Gokudera had lived his whole life in Italy, except for a few months spent in neighboring countries for jobs and to scout out famiglia to join, so seeing the country fade from the view of his window seat on a Boeing 777 was nothing short of nerve wrecking. To compound the feeling was the fact that he was nearly weaponless, having only his garrote, decorative accessory that it was. The teen took several deep breaths to calm himself and deliberately unclenched his muscles as the seatbelt light went out. When at last he was as relaxed as he was going to get, the silver blond tilted his head to stare at the storage compartment were all his worldly belongings resided. Having been homeless or in quick transition for six years had left him little to his name but the cloths on his back, two spare shirts, his jewelry, a few well read books and two battered photos, one of Bianchi when she was younger and the other of his poor mother, scavenged from his father’s manor before he’d hightailed it out of there when he was eight.  
Gokudera sighed in slight distress as he felt his muscles begin to tense again, he had made the mistake of not bringing anything to take his mind off the extremely venerable position he found himself in and had no desire to bring attention to himself by getting a book from his bag, so he focused once again on relaxing his body. Cazzo19, he needed a smoke. The green eyed boy sighed again, clenched his teeth and shifted position before closing his eyes against the harsh overhead lights. He was in for a long wait so he might as well try to catch some sleep.  
~  
After twenty-six restless hours Gokudera was more than ready to leave the Sapporo20 airport far behind as he stalked through the city streets, bag thrown over his shoulder, easily ignoring the looks his silver blond hair and dark green eyes attracted. He flicked his eyes down to the paper in his hand even though he had memorized it when he received it along with his passport and apartment recommendations. The directions were obviously written by someone who had either never been to the city or hadn’t been there in many years.  
The green eyed teen hoped that the weapons dealer had the ingredients to make his dynamite. Making his own was one of the reasons for his success; the premade dynamite was weak and off balanced with little accuracy in blast pattern. It also meant he could customize his attacks for each job. Most made men didn’t have i coglioni21 to work with the live components so ended up missing a hand because of the mass produced pezzo di merda22 that masqueraded as an explosive. Gokudera also hoped to be able to pick up a replacement for his Glock, which he had given to an associate in Venezia.  
The silver blond puffed away on his fifth cigarette since leaving the airport, becoming a little more irritated as each minute rolled past without finding the building he wanted. He was just getting ready to back track, sure that he had missed it, when he saw the discreet sign. The building was just like all the others on the street and blended well with the back ground. Gokudera snuffed out his smoke against the bottom of his shoe and pocketed the butt before pushing the subtlety painted front door. A pretty black haired receptionist greeted him blandly as he walked up to her desk.  
“Looking for Jun.” Gokudera rasped in barely accented Japanese. The receptionist’s pretty face stretched into a plastic smile as her dark eyes flicked to the screen of her computer.  
“I am sorry but Jun-san is not currently accepting… visitors.” The woman brushed her hair over her shoulder as she spoke, her voice dripping with distain.  
“Look, I was told to come here and speak with Jun, so either you find him and tell him that Gokudera is here or I take my business elsewhere.” Gokudera sneered, his green eyes flashing in irritation.  
“Child, go back where you came from. Jun-san is very busy and does not have time to deal with gaijin23.” Her smile slipped as she spoke; hinting at a deep, poorly hidden xenophobia.  
Gokudera growled in disgusted rage, his fingers twitched at his side. He wished for his dynamite so he could blow the puttana24 into little bits. Just as the teen opened his mouth to deride the woman a door opened behind her. A man stepped out dressed in a dark blue kimono. He was fairly tall for a Japanese man, about 180cm, with deep brown eyes and long hair so black it was blue in the florescent light. He was definitely a handsome man in Gokudera’s opinion and the teen felt no shame in letting his eyes rove over the man.  
“Fujiko-chan, please tell me instantly when Gokudera-san arrives. He is a very important client from the Vongola and should be treated with as much respect as possible.” The man said as he stepped towards the receptionist, the action bringing Gokudera into his view. He blinked slowly before smiling cheerfully. “It would seem Gokudera-san is already here.”  
“Jun-san…” Fujiko demurred, her face scrunching up in displeasure as she turned to look at him. “There must be a mistake; this gaki25 cannot be the person you were waiting for.”  
“Watch it, aho26.” The silver blond snarled at the dark haired woman. His fists and teeth clenched as he fought the urge to beat Fujiko into a bloody pulp. Jun frowned.  
“Maa maa27, there is no reason to get hostile, is that not right Fujiko-san?” The man’s voice was smooth as he spoke. The woman nodded sullenly causing he boss to smile again as he turned back to the door he had exited. “It would be better if we moved to my office Gokudera-san.”  
Gokudera completely ignored the receptionist as he skirted her desk to follow the man into the back room. Jun politely held the door and ushered the younger male into a cluttered office. After closing the door with a solid snap the Japanese man strolled causally not to the desk as the teen expected but to a wall covered in shelving. He raised his right hand above his head to press against one of the shelves, the action causing his sleeve to fall back, exposing a heavily scarred and tattooed arm and Gokudera wondered where else he was inked. With a distinct click a portion of the shelving unit swung inward.  
The new room Jun led him into was a complete surprise, at least the size of both the reception room and office with concrete floors and shelves and cases lining each wall, neatly stacked with all manner of weapons. In the center was a large metal table and it was there that the dark haired man stopped.  
“Now, Vongola paid for large quantities of silica, alumina, iron oxide and nitro glycerin. I must admit that I was forced to look up what could be made with those ingredients, there is not much call for homemade dynamite.” Jun said jokingly as he motioned towards the clear tubs set on the table. “This is only a small batch I am afraid.”  
“You will be able to have more sent to me when I have a stable address?” Gokudera asked as he set he bag down by the door and pulled his glasses from a pocket.  
“Hai28.” The man chirped.  
Gokudera carefully opened the three bins; he peered at the powders with experienced eyes, noting the color and constancy of the components. When was satisfied he flicked his eyes up and the man cheerily turned to open a cooling chest on a shelf and pulled out a large thermal container, he placed it carefully next to the tubs. Gokudera was glad the man had gone to the trouble of freezing the nitro glycerin; it would make getting to Namimori with it that much easier.  
“Casings?” He asked. Jun smiled as he pulled a box from the wall. Gokudera nodded in a pleased manner. “Got any Glocks?”  
“Any particular model?” Jun frowned slightly as he walked to a side shelf.  
“A 28 and ammo, if you’ve got it.” The silver blond stated as he leaned causally against the metal table, his shirt ridding up slightly. Jun lifted a gun from a rack and grabbed two boxes from a case below it. He laid the new items down carefully and Gokudera wondered if he was as gentle with his lovers as he was with his merchandise. From the look the man sent the sliver of his exposed stomach he was pretty sure he’d be able to find out.  
“It will be extra, I am afraid.” The black haired male said, his voice becoming slightly husky. “9089 yen29.”  
Gokudera nodded as he pulled out his wallet, his chains jingling. Luckily his last job had paid well so he was not strapped for cash and would be able to afford food and an apartment when he reached Namimori, at least until he secured Vongola membership or it was time to move on. If it didn’t work out he could possibly look into some of the local Yakuza, but he was almost positive he would be stuck as a free lancer if the Decimo turned out to be a figlio di troia30.  
The teen hand the money over, letting their fingers brush teasingly. The bills disappeared in a moment and a back pack was quickly pulled out. When the products were carefully put away Gokudera placed them with his other bag. When he turned back Jun was staring at him with a different type of smile, the kind that said I want to make you scream my name. The silver blond’s eyes slipped half closed as he dragged his tongue from one corner of his lip to the other. It seemed that he would indeed find out what kind of lover the man was.  
Much later when he left the weapons dealer with a noticeable limp and a pleased smile the receptionist scowled, even as a blush touched her cheeks. Gokudera just ignored her until she spoke.  
“Have a pleasant day.” She said forcing her lips into a plastic smile. Apparently him sleeping with her boss had not endured him to her because she added a not so quiet. “Kusogaki31.”  
“Vai all’infero puttana32.” He said almost cheerfully. It was obvious from the confusion on her face that either she didn’t speak Italian or at least not enough to understand him, not that the teen minded. He exited the building in a slow strolling manner, all too pleased with himself.  
~  
Finding an apartment was fairly easy; the Vongola recommendations had been spot on. It was a simple one room studio with a combined bedroom kitchen and a unit bath. It was small but it wasn’t like he had a whole lot of belongings to begin with. The silver blond sat on the tatami flooring with the ingredients for his dynamite surrounding him. He had already made the diatomite to his specifications and just needed to add the carefully thawed nitro glycerin and case it with a self made fuse designed to ignite with the cherry of his cigarette and burn evenly.  
The green eyed male needed to get them done quickly as he had an appointment to keep with Reborn the next day and he didn’t feel comfortable meeting the World’s Greatest Hitman with only a handgun for protection, friendly as they were. He was sure the baby wouldn’t mind that he was strapped at such a meeting; he might even get points for it.  
After his meeting with Reborn he planned to scout out the candidate. The boy who would be the capo di tutti capi33 was a teen just like himself, Gokudera scuffed as he placed a finished stick among the growing number of them. He pushed a strand of hair that had fallen out of his ponytail behind his ear as he adjusted his glasses. He almost felt sorry for the fool but thought better of it at remembering the untold power he would hold when he took over the Vongola, bastardo fortunato34.  
Gokudera finished his assembly quickly, having had lots of practice, and stored the leftover in a cupboard. When he was all done he undressed and turned out the lights. He lay on his futon for a while before sleep took him. His last thought was of the changes to come.  
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###### Translation List - taken from google translate and youswear.com as well as my own small skill in the languages

######    
1 Grappa - Doesn't need translation but I felt like explaining it is an Italian moonshine brandy.  
2 Per l'amor di Dio - For the love of God  
3 fratello - brother  
4 cagna - bitch  
5 un fottuto genio in buona fede - a fucking buona fede genius  
6 cazzo senza talento - fucking talentless  
7 Signore - Mr.  
8 bastardo’s - basterd's  
9 culo - ass  
10 Pronto - How the phone is answered in Italy means ready  
11 Caio poco dinamite, sono Reborn - Hello little dynamite, this is Reborn  
12 biri - a small rolled tube of tobacco  
13 Arcobaleno - means rainbow  
14 Giappone - Japan  
15 Decimo - Tenth  
16 famiglia - family  
17 Venezia - Venice  
18 Caio Caio - Bye bye  
19 Cazzo - Fuck  
20 Sapporo - The Prefecture capital of Hokkaido  
21 i coglioni - the balls  
22 pezzo di merda - pieces of shit  
23 gaijin - foreigner  
24 puttana - whore  
25 gaki - brat  
26 aho - dumbass  
27 Maa maa - There there  
28 Hai - Yes  
29 9088.80 yen - In 2001, when this takes place, this was $120  
30 figlio di troia - son of bitch  
31 Kusogaki - shitty brat  
32 Vai all’infero puttana - Go to hell bitch  
33 capo di tutti capi - the boss of bosses  
34 bastardo fortunato - fortunate bastard 

Thank you for reading I hoped you liked it, please review (all flames will go ignored)


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